


We Are The Wild

by Kaoz



Category: Supernatural, teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Assasins, Beacon Hills, F/M, Hunters, Werewolves, dead pool - Freeform, killers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2018-02-14 23:29:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2207100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaoz/pseuds/Kaoz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Deadpool attracts more than your run of the mill killers and mercenaries. Its the family business after all, isn't it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

_Sam stares at the engine. He can't help but think that Dean would know what to do. He sighs and glances around, it’s a nice day for a walk and that’s what he's going to have to tell Jess._

_"So," Jess leans her hip on the car, arms crossed. "How bad is it?" she's trying to hide the smile he can still see, no matter how much she keeps biting at the inside of her cheek._

_"You up for a walk?" Sam slams the hood and slips his arm around her waist pulling her into his chest._

_"Ooh, a picnic in the woods, too?" Jess teases, rising on her toes to steal a kiss. "It’s the perfect weekend, Sam."_

_He snorts but keeps his disappointment to himself. They start down the road, Sam with his arm draped over her shoulders and Jess humming softly._

**Beacon Hills               10 miles**

Sam clears his throat. "Hey, Dean?"

**SPN**


	2. Its Not What You Say

Sam is staring at his computer screen thinking about Jess and their weekend in Beacon Hills. With everything they're dealing with; Cain's mark on Dean's arm, trusting Crowley to find the First Blade, going after Abbadon…

And what about what he said to Dean? Harsh? Of course, but wasn’t the truth supposed to hurt? He meant every word. How different would things have been if only Dean hadn't come to Stanford? Couldn’t he have saved Jess? Just somehow made the past nine years … different.

Dean turns around, two beers in hand and frowns because he can't miss the vacant expression on his brothers face. He hasn’t forgotten Sam's 'truth' and it still bugs him. It hurts, is what. After all Dean has done to keep the snot nosed little shit safe. Intervening with John when Sam threw a fit and insisted on being  'a regular kid'. All the nights he stayed up with Sam and put him back to sleep because he had a bad dream. And what about the Hunts?  The hits Dean took so Sam wouldn’t get hurt. Every time Dean tried to warn Sam about Ruby… what an idiot! That’s what Sam must think of his big brother. Because instead of going their own way like Dean had said, there he goes, taking Sam back, hunting like they'd done before. Like Dean trusted him the same…

**SPN**

The rain pours and it’s a miserable day to be walking about. It’s the familiar car in the parking lot she's walking past that stops her mid-step.

 _'It can't be.'_ She thinks because what the hell would he be doing in Beacon Hills? _'Its not.'_

She stops at the hood and looks into the rain splattered windshield. It’s a cream interior… and hadn't his been black?

 _'He wouldn’t…why?'_ she turns around and immediately spots the bar.  She walks to the door and pushes through it to the musty, cigarette stench and the interior is just as dimly lit as it had been outside. It doesn’t take her eyes much to adjust to the light and spot the blond head and broad shoulders she had been telling herself could _not_ be in Beacon Hills.

**TW**

Sam is startled by Dean smacking his shoulder. The beer is placed dangerously close to the keyboard and he notices the screen. Its got a whole list of articles from Beacon Hills thanks to Charlie's App.

"Got something?" Dean leans closer, foregoing any mention of the faraway look Sam had been sporting.

"Maybe." Sam mutters and absently pushes the beer aside. Dean grabs it, takes the chair beside Sam's and leans back. Sam flicks through the articles with Dean quietly staring at the screen. He can feel the mark on his arm, its like a soft throb, almost like a second heartbeat-

"No one called you here. So you better be passing through." Montserrat warns.

Dean is caught off guard and silenced - for all of 2seconds. He's equally surprised to see her in town but the fact she's calling dibs on Beacon Hills is...

"What-? Where'd you …?" he frowns, sitting up in his chair and looks towards the door. _'What the hell are the Argent's doing in town?'_

Sam hasn’t said a word. He's not sure what to say and he's all kinds of curious about this stranger not so unusually pissed at his brother.

"You got that geezer in your pocket?" Dean leans around her almost expecting to find the creepy old man somewhere close. He was never too far from her the last few times Dean crossed paths with them. And he wasn’t too keen on having words with the old man either. "Or is he gonna come ou-."

"I guess you didn’t hear me the first time." She kicks at the leg of his chair, startling him, and leans one hand on the table. "Let me dumb it down for you-."

"Uh, hello?" Sam cuts in, leaning slightly into her direct line of sight. It doesn’t get him much of her attention.

"Pack up." she tells Sam, ignoring his attempt at whatever he thought because she wasn’t about to suffer introductions. And they wouldn’t be staying long enough for her to give her name. "Get going." She motions with her hand towards the door. "Plenty of road and light, you won't get lost finding your way out of town."

Sam looks at the young woman standing at the edge of their table. He takes in the dark hair pulled into a braid over her right shoulder, damp with rain and more drops beading on her black coat. He doesn’t miss the glare she's got on Dean or the slight flush across her cheeks.

"Aint leaving, sweetheart." Dean leans back into his chair. Green eyes locked with hers. He knows exactly how she's going to take it. And its always been fun to play this game with Montserrat.

 Sam looks at Dean and gives him that 'who is she and do I need to know what you did to piss her off?' look.

She narrows her eyes on Dean, the last time he called her that hadn't ended well. She's clearly ticked off, she knows he can see it and she's not hiding her feelings either. The last thing she had expected to deal with was Dean in Beacon Hills, with all sorts of monsters running about trying to get out before a bullet or arrow hit the bulls eyes the dead pool had put on their backs. And she was looking forward to finding the Benefactor.

The shift in her expression unsettles Dean. There's a slight smirk about her full lips and the moment her head tilts to a slight angle, eyes narrowing … he gets that 'Oh shit, what the hell now?' feeling.

"Baby had a makeover." Montserrat notes in her soft tone. She has the faintest smile on her full lips and the decided glint in her teal-green eyes holds danger.

That gets Dean's attention and his eyes narrow, no longer smiling let alone amused.

"She looks real nice. All shiny…" she trails off, watching the discomfort leak onto Dean's face.

Dean sits up in his seat. He totally gets her silent threat and he doesn’t like the idea of her messing with his car.

Sam looks between them, not sure why she's running them out of town.

"Trust me on this one, Dean." she places both hands on the table, pale fingers sticking out of the soft black leather gloves as she leans closer to him. "You won't like it here."

This isn't the same sort of Hunt the Winchesters are used to. And its family business after all. Argent family.

They stare at each other a long moment. Dean reaches his finger to her nose and taps it, pulling a forced smile on his face. He doesn’t get the slight wrinkle and pout he normally would've but he's not expecting it. And that’s a disappointment too.

"Thanks for the invitation, Money."

Montserrat clenches her jaw at his pet name. She doesn’t snap at him like she normally would. "Don’t say I didn’t warn you." she steps back. There's a definite hidden smirk and Dean doesn’t like the feeling he gets seeing it.

She walks out, pulling the hood over her head and tucks her fists into the pockets of her coat.

"Okay." Dean turns back to Sam and grabs the lap top. He's going to look for _and_ find whatever it is she wants him far away from. There's plenty in the articles Charlie's app pulled together for a dozen hunts but he's certain that’s not the reason Montserrat is running him out of town.

"Uh, hey." Sam frowns. "Dean."

"There's something worth the lay over, Sam." Dean scowls at the screen, clicking through the articles as he skims each one to sort of get an idea of how they're related. If at all…

"Who-?" Sam partly glances towards the door and the girl his brother clearly doesn't want to explain.

"That’s Montserrat Argent." Dean answers without looking up from the screen. "I know you didn’t miss the sexy accent."

Sam frowns, annoyed and when Dean doesn’t elaborate, he huffs a breath and leans towards his brother. "And?"

Dean looks up, brow furrowed in question. He almost wants to ask Sam what it matters because aren't they supposed to stick to hunting? Period. Where does Sam get off asking all sorts of invasive questions about Dean's personal life?

"How do you know-? Never mind." Sam shakes his head deciding its best if he doesn’t get verbal and descriptive confirmation of how his brother knows the girl running them out of town. "Look, she wants us gone."

"I heard." Dean scoffs, shaking his head and goes back to the articles-

"Dean… fine." Sam huffs. "I'm going back to the hotel." he grabs for the lap top and has to pull it away from Dean when he resists.

"I was using th at." Dean protests when he loses his grip on the lap top.

"Get your own." Sam grumbles.

"That _was_ mine-. Or was it the one before?" he scowls and shoves Sam as they're leaving. "You owe me one."

The rain had slowed to a barely there drizzle by the time they got outside. The first thing Dean noticed was the desecration of his Baby.

"What -!!" Dean's hands automatically reach to Baby. He almost snaps at Sam not to touch her when he kneels down to inspect the flat tire.

"I don’t see a hole." Sam wipes his hands as he gets to his feet. "They're just flat, Dean. Easy fix."

"Easy?" Dean scowls at the sight of the flat tires on his Baby. But she didn’t poke them, just let out the air so its sort of a good thing.

Sam walks to the passenger side and stops, frowning. He turns to Dean, annoyed.

"What?" Dean starts towards Sam and spots the flats tires on that side. "All of 'em?!" he almost wants to impart the same amount of pain except he doesn’t know what she cares about enough to flip out like this. Unless he could get his hands on her bow…

"You slept with her." Sam shakes his head, ignores Dean's half formed protest because they both know its true.

Sam starts walking.

**SPN**


	3. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A brief glimpse into events before the Winchesters showed up in Beacon Hills.

_Chris stands with hands fisted at his sides. His eyes burn but he wont let the tears fall. He's lost them both and the young woman in front of him… the same eyes as his Victoria… they look upon him coldly._

_"I barely knew her."_

_Her words echo in his head and all he can think is that she has no heart. He stood by and watched Gerard twist Allison. He watched her change after her Mother's death … he saw what Gerard did to his little girl…_

_"She was your sister." That can't be his voice. The low, gravelly sound… so harsh and its like there's acid washing down his throat. This… young woman… his lost daughter… is too much like the version of Allison that Gerard twisted, using her grief and anger._

_"She died protecting those monsters." Montserrat snapped. "Don’t expect me to cheer or shed a tear."_

_Harsh words and he almost breaks his stance. Almost…because he can still see her, laying in Scott's arms… as if she'd only closed her eyes to sleep._

_But if he moves any closer, he'll snap Montserrat's neck. Can he blame her for what she believes? What she's been taught? "What did he do to you?" had he lost another daughter before ever finding her?_

_"I learned the family business." She straightened her back, eyes locked with his, as though taking on the challenge when all Chris wanted was … what?_

_"Nous Chassons ceux qui nous chassent." She repeats the family motto. She believes it whole heartedly. It doesn’t mean she isn't saddened by the loss of her sister. Her grief will be channeled into the Hunt … Montserrat will avenge her. No matter they were little more than strangers for the brief time they had together._

_"She's dead!" Chris yells. He can feel the wet stain his cheeks and doesn’t care. He tosses the desk and all its contents. "Allison! My little girl…!" he turns on her, breathing heavily, this daughter Victoria gave away and couldn’t find when she changed her mind. This young woman too late to try and be a Father to … too late to show her what Allison had shown him._

_"We protect those who need protecting." That’s what Allison had died doing._

_Was he too late?_

_"Mourn somewhere else." Montserrat ordered. Her eyes, so like Victoria's, held no compassion. "I have business in Beacon Hills. If you won't be part of the Hunt, get out."_

_Its like a slap in the face._

_Something hurts, the look on his face, all that sorrow… it washes off him, suffocating and all she wants is to get as far from what it makes her feel as possible. She'd thought to be past it, the pain of emotions and the weakness she can't afford._

_Chris backs off slowly, stumbling. His heart is breaking, again. How many times can it heal before there's nothing left?_

_He turns to the door and Montserrat forces herself to keep breathing. This phantom pain in her chest won't let her alone. Why does she care so much that he's leaving her? He's lost one child, and yet its like Allison was all Chris Argent had in the world. How little does she matter to him but then, Gerard had told her. He said she couldn’t expect Chris to love her the same as he did, like a Father loves his daughter…_

'Grandfather was right. They never gave me a second thought…'

_At the door, Chris looks back at Montserrat. She looks a lot like his side of the family; same dark hair, slim athletic build but her eyes… that’s all Victoria. He thinks he sees something else in his daughters eyes; hurt… But she steels her shoulders and crosses her arms, not a word leaves the dusky lips. He could almost see Victoria, the challenge in her green eyes anytime they had an argument to settle…_

'I've lost them…'

_And he leaves. Because he's not strong enough to fight his own daughter, to try and show her a different way…_

**TW**


	4. Crank Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am aware that events are out of sequence. Just go with it and enjoy!

Peter makes his way to Beacon Hills High School, every few blocks checking his surroundings but the feeling of being followed doesn’t abate. He can't see anyone, can't smell anything out of the ordinary either and it irks him.

Montserrat keeps down wind and far back from Peter Hale. He's a panicky bastard, as he should be considering the pain, the late and newly risen, Kate Argent imparted almost a decade past. She can't think about the lengths Kate took in killing the Hale wolves. Sleeping with the monster… was it a family trait? Allison had gotten cozy with two of the teen wolves in this new pack. Was it something Montserrat herself was going to be afflicted with?

Her mind automatically brought up Dean and the few Hunts she had crossed paths with him and allowed herself to work with him. Was Dean her kryptonite?

_"Remember this, Montserrat. Distractions only get you killed."_

Which is what thinking of Dean Winchester would get her.

The vault, once she gets a good look at Peter at the High Schools pillar, is ingeniously hidden. In plain sight and perfectly concealed. She ignores the howl emanating somewhere inside the high school because she's almost certain that Chris Argent will find a way to live up to Allison's new 'family credo'.

The burst of anger almost covers the hurt the thought brings her. Montserrat wants a Father, however much she fights that desire. Gerard was all she had for most of her life, until he'd found other Hunters capable enough of teaching her the family business. Gerard always had a plan.

And she had been a key piece. The daughter who would lead the Argent's, follow the code exactly as it is meant.

Montserrat starts towards the open vault. She doesn’t see the shadows moving closer from her left flank.

**TW**

"Seriously," Sam protests but Dean is half out the hotel door already. "Wait-. Damn it."

Dean barely lets him close the passenger door before pulling out of the parking lot and he doesn’t say another word on the way to Beacon Hills High. He's been trying not to say what's on his mind. Dean can be just as pig headed as Sam, maybe worse but at least he knows what side to choose. Dean would never think of giving up on Sam, turning his back on this little family… he's sold his soul for the ass-hat, got sucked into Purgatory and all the while he kept thinking; 'Of course Sam is looking for me. Sam is gonna get me out of this place. Family sticks together.'

But Sam has a point.

Because Sam never asked Dean to sell his soul, he never asked Dean to bring him back from the dead. And Sam is right about Dean, because there's something about being the last one… Dean just can't be alone.

 _'No, that’s not true.'_ He scowls at the wet road. _'I've been alone before and just cus I'd rather the big jerk was riding shot gun doesn’t mean I can't do this alone.'_

But Dean knows that Sam is right. He'd rather not go through each day alone, each Hunt another monster he bags. Always on his own… and after all those years of the three of them in tight quarters. Of Hunting with his brother and Father… being sent off on his own was difficult to do once there was nothing to kill and no one whose breathing annoyed him.

Because they just weren't there anymore.

Sam stares at the road, sneaking glances at Dean reflected in the window. He can tell it bothers him, that not-fight at the Bunker. But why? _Why_ couldn’t Dean leave it alone? _Why_ insist on making all those sacrifices when its just easier to let things be? Whatever they end up being…

He frowns as the high school comes into view and sighs when Dean pulls into the parking lot. Its dark, empty and Sam really doesn’t want to waste the time on a wild goose chase. The odds of finding any clues as to the deaths- ok so they're all murders- at the high school is…

"Load up." Dean orders closing the door behind him as he steps into the light drizzle. He's at the trunk sifting through extra clips for his gun when Sam moodily reaches in to grab a couple for himself. "Here." Dean tosses him the sawed off and shuts the trunk.

"Don’t you think this is-."

"Better safe than sorry." Dean calls over his shoulder. He tucks Ruby's knife into the sheath and holds it out for Sam to take. He's already got a sharp blade of his own tucked into his boot.

Sam rolls his eyes but takes the knife anyway. Being prepared was drilled into them at a very young age. He couldn’t fault his brother for being prepared. Even if Sam didn’t think they'd find anything.

**SPN**

The whistle of her arrow draws another Berserker and the second arrow pings off its chest plate as well. She's having trouble finding a chink in their bone armor and they are doing a good job of getting her cornered. Following Peter wasn’t such a great idea after all,  but regrets wouldn’t serve her.

Montserrat runs, the bow tucked into the quiver at her back. Her way is blocked by another Berserker, or it could be the same one, she can't tell them apart and she doesn’t know how many there are. The baby eagle doesn’t make a dent in that armor either, it just startles the Berserker long enough she runs past it.

Unlike her little sister, Montserrat isn't about to waste the energy in going to help the teen werewolves cornered by the Berserker's.  She isn't about to shed a drop of blood or sweat on their behalf.

 _"Learn from your mistakes, child. And learn from the mistakes of others."_ Gerard had said that to her too many times to just ignore the lessons.

**TW**

They stop at the familiar sound. They don’t have to say anything, both move towards the gun shots, perfectly in tune.

Dean is the first one to reach the courtyard and the trio of monsters chasing a very familiar figure. "Damn it."

Sam didn’t say anything, just ran beside Dean, after the girl ordering them out of town. He was kinda wondering if maybe they should've just left Beacon Hills. It certainly wasn’t like the sleepy little town he'd spent a weekend with Jess exploring.

The girl, Montserrat, he reminds himself, heads towards a wall at the far end of the courtyard. Its half her height or a bit higher. Sam watches her jump, somehow get to the top, leap across… and disappear.

**SPN**

Montserrat already knows the next wall is a little too far out of her reach. She hits it with her feet and slaps her gloved palms on it, allowing gravity to pull her, sliding down the wet cement until her feet touch on the steps. She shoves herself back as hard as possible, trying at the same time to keep her footing.

From above, a dark shadow lands exactly where she had been only a second before. She takes the long knife at her side and stabs at the Berserker turning towards her. The tip hits bone armor, the force behind the blow jarred her arm but she doesn’t let go and the knife glances off, unable to find purchase. She tries again, this time slashing at the face. At the third strike, the Berserker brings up its blade but is too close to use it. He sweeps her aside with his arm. She gets slammed into the wall behind it and falls on her back feeling each stair as it bruises her spine and ass.

Montserrat uses both legs to kick it away. The slippery stairs help and the Berserker slides down a few steps landing on its knees. She drags in a hissed breath, pushing herself into a sitting position on the stairs. The Berserker growls low in its throat, the glowing eyes locked on her. She is so unprepared to fight them, her arrows don’t pierce their armor and her gun hadn't deterred it either. And there is more than one of the monsters on her ass.

Her back aching painfully, Montserrat pushes off the steps and makes a run for the courtyard again. Except her foot gets snagged by a clawed hand, yanking her backwards. She grabs at the metal railing with both hands and tries to pull herself free but its stronger. Her left hand slips from the wet railing…

**TW**

Sam blasts the monster following after the first one. Dean keeps running towards the staircase where the other one disappeared with Montserrat. He hears the gunshots first and rounding the corner sees her doggedly refusing to let go of the railing while shooting the monster in the face. Its the bone blade, raised to strike at her, that Dean aims for.

Startled, Montserrat looks over her head, the Berserker yanks and she loses her grip completely. The angry roar echoes in the partially enclosed stair way. Its followed by another loud blast just as her wrist is caught in a bruising grip. She kicks and feels the claws loosen around her ankle and then she's being dragged out of the darkness.

"Money! You okay? What the hell-." Dean stumbles with the force of her slight weight slamming into him. She grips his shirt in both hands and pushes, tucking her head into his chest to avoid the blade coming at them.

Dean feels the ground, wet grass sort of cushioning the forced fall and then Sam is standing over them both, the shotgun aimed but he doesn’t get to shoot.

"I told you to go!" Montserrat reminds pushing off Dean and rolling to a knee. She draws her bow and lets fly a couple of arrows into the darkened stairway while Dean scrambles to his feet. He's careful to keep out of Sam's way. Both of them ducking from the bone blade trying to hack them into pieces.

"Shoot it!" Dean orders, doing just that with the monsters coming from the right. He keeps his back to Montserrat who gets to her feet behind them and slightly moves towards her target.

"Its not working!" Sam yells back. He can't see any damage on the armor and he doesn’t have a clue what kind of monster it is. He hadn't seen one before and he can't remember if there had been mention of something like it in the books from the Men Of Letters Bunker.

"Sam!" Dean follows his brothers roll down the stairs he's just pulled Montserrat out of. He can hear the thump of Sam's body hitting the cement steps echo in the confined space. "Sam!" Dean calls again but keeps his eyes on the blade swinging at his head.

"Go." Montserrat blocks the next blow with her bow. "Help him!" she yells moving into the next blow from the Berserker. She's picking up on their style; a hack and smash sort of attack, and big as they are, that is all they need.

Dean only hesitates a moment before taking the steps two at a time to reach Sam. He's breathing but unconscious. Blood soaked his hairline from the gash that opened on his way down the steps. In the dark, Dean can't tell if its bad.

He shoves on Sam's shoulder calling to him and feels relief when he gets a muttered 'fine' from the jerk.

**SPN**

Montserrat ducks the slash at her head, steps around the Berserker and tries to find somewhere to jab the arrow. She isn't having any luck getting it to pierce the Berserker.

Just as quickly as they attacked, the Berserker's back off.  She draws the arrow, breathing hard, her targets standing still for her. As one, the Berserker's turn and trott off.

"What… the hell?" Montserrat frowns. She doesn’t understand what's happened. How they're called off because that is likely the only answer.

"What the hell is going on in this town?"

She turns with her bow raised and the arrow aimed at Dean's head and scowls. She had clearly told him to get out of Beacon Hills. Yet, there he is, all the distraction she can't afford-

"I want some answers." Dean holds Sam's arm across his shoulder, green eyes following the lowering bow. Clear annoyance flashes over her features.

"I did tell you," she puffs a breath to shift the lock of inky hair sliding across her eyes. "You wouldn’t like Beacon Hills." She slips the arrow back into the quiver and gingerly makes her way towards them. "Maybe its not too late to get on the road, Dean."

"You heard me say I wasn’t leaving. Right?" Dean scowls. He shifts Sam's weight while Montserrat pulls a penlight from her pocket and grabs the front of Sam's shirt.

"Keep him still." She orders, hand reaching to grab at Sam's chin and shines the light into his eyes.

"I'm fine." Sam grumbles trying to keep from being blinded. He sort of tries brushing her hand away from his face but she grips his chin hard and gives a harsh tug that actually makes him wince.

"I don’t think he has a concussion." She lets go of his chin and brushes her fingers through the strands of hair sticking to the blood his face. "That may need stitches."

Dean eyes her. "You got a first aid kit?" he watches her step back, the slight limp from her left leg and knows she's either sprained her ankle or something else is causing her pain. He wouldn’t mind reprising his role as her 'doctor'-

"Try the one in Baby's trunk." Montserrat shakes her head. "I'm not playing nurse to your partner. Or you." She adds as Dean opens his mouth.  She can't allow herself to entertain going down that road with him again.

Her eyes flick between them, she heard Dean, when he yelled out and she focuses on the hurt one… "This is Sam?" she tries to find something of Dean in the younger Winchester. "Your brother? He was at … Stanford."

"Was." Dean states, his expression clearly says he doesn’t want the conversation going there.

"What else did you tell her?" Sam frowns. He hadn't though his brother was the type for pillow talk, he's  always shutting down any attempt at sharing with his patented 'chick flick' reply.

"Nothing." Montserrat cuts into their silent staring challenge. "So get on the road. You really don’t want to be here." She turns away from them, slowly walking across the wet grass, ignoring Dean's loud demand to get some answers.

She wants him out of Beacon Hills more than she thought. The pain in her back gets easier to block the further away from him she gets. Easier to run through the events of the night…

Disappointed.

That’s what she feels. Being so close to finding the Benefactor and all she has to show for the nights events is bruises, Dean Winchester and a dark clothed figure slinking away from the Hale vault while she was forced to run.

**TW**

Dean helps Sam get back to the Impala. He'd been tempted to leave the big jerk propped on the wall by the stairs and go after Montserrat to get answers.

After all, its Sam's idea they stick to Hunting and put the rest aside. Like they aren't brothers, like Dean hasn’t watched over his dumb ass since John put the six month old squalling bundle in his arms and told him to run.

"You okay?" Dean asked.

"Yeah," Sam sighs. "It stings like a bitch but I’ll live." He assures. The light from the lamp post feels like pins in his head but he's not about to say that. Bad enough, he’ll have to let Dean stitch up his head…

"Watch your head, Sam." Dean cautions once he gets the passenger door open and hovers over Sam as he sits. "Here." He drops a rag on Sam's lap and closes the door.

Sam keeps his eyes closed and tries to ignore the vibrating phone in his pocket. Whoever is calling can leave a message if its important-.

Sam sits up, squints his eyes shut as his head pounds, retaliating the sudden movement. But important calls are all they’ve been getting lately. They've got so may eggs juggling its ridiculous. And with Crowley dangling the First Blade in front of Dean's nose…

"What the hell is this?" Dean shoves his phone towards Sam when he sits in the drivers seat.

The Impala's door opening hadn't even registered and then Dean grabs Sam's phone too and compares the screens. "Where the hell did this come from?" He frowns. "I didn’t have email set up on this thing."

Sam squints at the screens, the names blurring slightly, he takes his phone from Dean and scrolls through the short list slowly.

"I don’t know… some of these names though…" Sam mutters.

"We get to the hotel, stitch up your head and then we can sort through this krap." Dean pulls out of the parking lot.

**SPN**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's another Interlude coming.


	5. Interlude

_Chris doesn’t know what to say, what to feel … he knows its true. She has Victoria's eyes, but the resemblance to his Mother is undeniable._

_Allison's silence is heavy with anger. She's being lied to, yet again. By her Mother, her Father…_

_Gerard…_

_He had know the entire time and never said anything. Had he been comparing granddaughters?_

_"You're a disgrace."_

_Allison flinches as though she's been slapped. She doesn’t appreciate being reprimanded, especially by some stranger. She glances towards her Father but he's silent._

_"We Hunt those monsters." Montserrat reminds them. "Instead, you're making out with it." She turns the teal-green eyes on Chris. "And you've allowed this… to shame the Argent name."_

_Chris backs up a little. The force behind her words… He knows Montserrat is the head of the family; she's the eldest female of their line._

_"You don’t get to run wild, kid." Montserrat turns to Allison. "You are an Argent. You either start acting like the Hunter you've been raised …"_

_"Or what?" Allison puts forward the challenge. Her darks eyes blazing, anger etched into every line on her face._

_"I lead this family." Montserrat stated in her soft tone._

_Watching them, Chris had the strongest urge to get in front of Allison…_

_"Fall in line. Before I make you."_

_"Girls…" Chris stepped forward, his throat dry. He can hear Gerard in her words-_

_"Don’t mistake me for a daughter." Montserrat glares at him. She knows they hadn't bothered to look for her. Victoria had tossed her aside and if it hadn't been for Gerard… what would have become of her? "You don’t get to play Daddy." She casts her eyes towards Allison and the clenched jaw, thin pressed lips and back at Chris. "I had grandfather for that."_

_"He lied!" Allison yells, she steps towards her older sister. "He lied to all of us!"_

_Montserrat has the letter Gerard left her. The truth is different for everyone and if she lets them all in her head, allows all those versions to confuse everything she knows…_

_"Let's go." She turns to the door ignoring their confusion. "You need to be reminded of what Hunting is." And she has the perfect targets in mind to drive the lesson home for the little sister in need of a reality check._

**TW**


	6. Guns For Hire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have yourselves a great Labor Day weekend!!
> 
> I'm off to the beach!

RICHARD BENEFIELD 250

JACK MARSLAND 250

JOY WALDROP 250

CHERYL CALIX 250

SCOTT MCCALL 25

LYDIA MARTIN 20

DEREK HALE 15

KATE ARGENT 12

SATOMI ITO 10

KIRA YUKIMURA 6

JORDAN PARRISH 5

NOSHIKO YUKIMURA 5

MALIA HALE 4

LIAM DUNBAR 3

JOANNA MCLAUGHLIN 1

STEVE GRACE 1

TOM HILL 1

BRETT TALBOT 1

**TW**

Sam ignores the dull throb at his temple from the stitches his brother just put in his head.

"Hey," Dean walks over with the printed list and shows Sam the name that’s drawn his attention. "Malia Hale." Dean says and leans over Sam to look at the computer screen.

"I can't find that name in these." Sam mutters. "But there is a bunch of old and some recent, articles on… Derek Hale." He clicks on the images and prints them. Its easier to read even if the ink is going to cost them. "According to this one, the family home was burned. Arson. They all died. He wasn’t there, out of town at school. And a sister." He hands Dean the 2nd article. "The uncle was in a coma, badly burned. Nothing else and no Malia Hale." He frowns at the page with the list of names and stares. "What are the numbers for?"

"Leave it." Dean orders. He shuffles all the printed articles and scattered pages into a neat pile and shuts the lap top. "Get some rest. We'll figure it out in the morning." He turns away, shrugging out of his over shirt.

"You're going to pretend that envelope isn't important?" Sam says at his back.

Dean frowns, he'd been hoping Sam hadn't noticed the yellow envelope taped to their door. "What?" he turns to Sam, feigning innocence. He brushes past him towards the bathroom.

"The envelope on the door, Dean." Sam scowls. "Look, if its … personal-."

"No." Dean shakes his head. He  grabs the envelope and rips open the flap. He grabs the tape and chuks it at Sam.

He fumbles it, smacking his chest. He frowns at the tape; **Play Me** clearly printed on it. "Maybe she's just messing with us, Dean."

"This isn't her way." Dean is quick to assure. He knows her and she's straightforward. He's suffered her brutal honesty, the strong-willed-

"Dean-."

"A tape." Dean frowns, shakes off thoughts of the girl he ran away from. He wouldn’t say it out loud but that’s exactly what he did when it felt … when it was more than Dean could handle. He looks at Sam with the tape in his hand. They don’t even have to speak. Dean grabs the tape from his hand and both head to the door and the Impala.

Once inside, Dean pops in the tape and after a pause he lets it play.

"… _not all of their children would become werewolves. The ones that did, these born wolves, had to be trained. They needed to learn control…_ "

"Hunting lesson?" Sam wonders looking over at Dean.

Dean skips it forward bit and lets it play again.

"… _After entering the IP address you will be connected through a dark net portal to an untraceable bank. Once logged in, enter your account number to receive wire transfers. The IP address will deactivate…_ "

"Wait, what is this?" Sam frowns.

"Looks like a job." Dean snaps, listening.

"… _with each transfer. You will be assigned a new transfer if you choose to continue down the list. Remember, visual confirmation is always required for payment._ "

The tape clicked and popped out. Silence filled the Impala while the brothers sat digesting what they'd just heard.

"So…" Sam can already see where this Hunt is heading and doesn’t like it.

"We get paid to kill fuglys." Dean grabs the tape and the list and starts to get out of the Impala.

"Wait!" Sam grabs at Dean.

"What?" Dean scowls, looking back at Sam and the hand clutching his jacket. "We kill monsters all the time. Only difference, here, we're getting paid."

"We don’t know-."

"Monsters, Sam." Dean cuts in. "You forget what the family business is? We kill monsters and its about time someone started paying for our services." He gets out. There's nothing else to say because according to Sam they should just stick to the Hunting.

And that’s exactly what Beacon Hills was offering them.

**SPN**


	7. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did say I would be introducing the lost Argent daughter. So here's another snippet.

_The static plays on the screen. Its an old set up - low tech;  VCR and tape._

_He left her a message._ _Clear and to the point, exactly what he expects her to do … because he know she will. He raised her to be a Hunter, the leader of their family, to follow the Argent motto to the letter._

_Gerard knows exactly what to say, what will push his granddaughter, what she least wants to believe is true._

_That she was never more than a passing nuisance to Victoria. An embarrassment for a young woman, unmarried…_

_She had no Mother and no Father to love her._

_"_ …we knew it would come. I'm an old man. And I've been dying for a long time now. Save the tears, Montserrat. I don’t need them, nor do I care for those dramatics. You are the head of this family. And you will lead it… _"_

_Whether he likes tears or not, he can't see the shimmering trail on her cheek. She thinks her grandfather should know better; she's never been one for hysterics even if the middle of a Hunt. What good would it do her then?_

_"_ …I tried to guide her, Allison. She's … infatuated … with … that 'boy'. This new leader of the wolf pack in Beacon Hills. They’ve killed your Mother … and instead of killing those things … she's allowing this 'romance', bah. Your Father is no better, allowing her to gallivant about town with those things. They should be put down! Every last one. You will clean this town. You… _"_

_There's a letter in her hands, the seal unbroken and she finally stands up from her seat in front of the old TV. The paper crinkles noisily and she walks towards the only window of the room he had occupied. The nurses have left her alone, just handing over the yellow envelope when she announced herself at the front desk._

_The folded parchment is her birth certificate._

_"Acte delivree selon … Le veint deux de Juillet…_ _Paris, France…" she can't contain the humorless chuckle. "I am a French citizen." But she wonders if its true. She has another claiming her an Italian, and another as a Britt. She's not even sure that 24 is her real age._

_Montserrat stares out of the rain streaked window, her fingers idly tracing the imprint of her inked foot prints on the paper. It shouldn’t be too difficult to get an answer from Chris Argent._

**TW**


	8. When She Says 'I Love You'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while, yes, I know. But I've had some productive nights. Most of this chapter was already done, the ending was sort of... unplanned but I figure I better start getting to the point.

Dean has been waiting for her. He can see from the window he's facing the second she realizes he's there. He's already smiling by the time she looks at him. Dean turns the second cup so she can see the happy face he drew on it. He knows she's likely to walk away just because, and if that’s the case then he's got no problem chasing her down the block. He wants answers and Montserrat knows the questions.

She really likes the coffee shop. They're fast and don’t make her ask what the hell she means when she places her order. Not many places are able to give her exactly what she asks them for, and less of those make her coffee the way she likes it. She eyes the cup with Dean's smiley face and wonders if he managed to get it right. _'Does he remember?'_

Montserrat is inside before she changes her mind and by then there's no point in looking stupid by walking out. She takes the seat across from him where they stare at each other in silence. She can tell a lot has happened since she last saw him. She's heard the rumors but he seems very alive to her, though she still wonders if all the rest she's made sure to hear about has any truth. The world ending? An apocalypse? The gates of hell opened? Angels walking among humans? And that meteor shower? Not meteors at all but … angels?

Dean takes a sip of his coffee. He can't help thinking about the last time he saw her; he'd left her sleeping. They'd Hunted together, just the two of them, the group she'd normally have with her was sent off on another Hunt. He'd been surprised they'd left and it wasn’t until then that he realized _she_ called all the shots. Of course, he'd noticed the Hunters deferred to her; a glance or nod, nothing too obvious. Montserrat stayed with him. If Dean hadn't seen her Hunting… she was nothing more than a girl then.

"Baby didn’t suffer lasting damage." Montserrat finally breaks the silence. She picks up the cup and takes a tentative sip watching Dean's scowl.

"You didn’t have to touch her." He hates that it sounds like a whine though that gets a slight twitch of her full lips. And then she looks surprised. "Yeah, I could have filled that with Tabasco sauce."

"You …" she doesn’t know what to say. He certainly could and likely would have, he's such a child at times its annoying and too damn charming that its difficult to stay mad at him for long.

"I know how you like it." And he knows she's going to understand its not just the coffee he's talking about.

Her eyes narrow at what he implies but she refuses to engage. "This isn't your Hunt, Dean. Take your brother and go."

"After we just got us a paying Hunt?" he shakes his head, sits back in the chair and watches her as he takes another sip of his coffee.

"I take it you found a list and the instructions on tape." Montserrat sighs. She reclines in her seat and crosses her leg, the coffee held in her hands on her lap.

"Why would you be running me out of town, darlin'?" Dean wonders."You've got enough cash."

"Its not about money." Montserrat is quick to correct. She can't keep the _feeling_ from her tone and can see that he's caught it. "This town… the Hunt is different. Personal."

"You keeping secrets…" Dean sighs at the press of her lips. He knows there's nothing else she's going to say. "Fine. You don’t have to tell me. But I'm not leaving either. A paying gig is worth annoying you." He smiles and gets a slight twitch of her lips, which means she's starting to soften towards him. That’s the first step in getting her to open up and talk to him.

"If its secrets you want to talk about…" Montserrat leans towards him, her eyes meeting his. "Explain this rumor I'm hearing about angels falling out of heaven." That’s all it takes to get Dean to shut her out.

"Been hearing the same rumor." Dean shrugs. "Suppose if there's demons then…"

"Stop lying, Dean." Montserrat stands up, disappointment written on her face for him to see. "You and I know each other too well. So keep your secrets. I'll keep mine. At least a while longer." She turns away and leaves. Its when she's out of sight that she drops the rigid set of her back and shoulders and allows the hurt to wash over her. The coffee cup is warm in her hand but it tastes like ashes now. It goes in the nearest trash bin while she wonders at how stupid she's been. To still hope that one day, Dean Winchester will allow himself to love…

**SPN**

They're worried.

There's a list with their names and a bounty for each one. The Benefactor remains faceless and dangerous, hunting them…

"What's the plan?"

All eyes turn to Scott but he doesn't have a clue what he's supposed to do next. They all look to him, as the Alpha of their pack, to have the answers, a plan, anything that will take away their fear of the faceless boogeyman bent on killing them all.

"There are Hunters in Beacon Hills. The kind that kill 'monsters'. Oh and they consider werewolves part of that category." Styles glances over at Scott, eyes off the road long enough he gets a hard shove from Lydia from behind his seat.

"We know."

"What are we doing about it?"

The screech of tires accompanies the sudden force throwing them all forward as Styles slams the brakes.

There's a huff of annoyed breath from Lydia but she doesn’t say anything.

The man staring back at them from the middle of the crosswalk looks startled to have almost been made roadkill.

"Come on, already." Styles grumbles with an impatient shake of his hand.

"You practically ran him over, Styles." Lydia scolds. She looks over at the man and gets that familiar feeling of weirdness. She knows there's something different, but that’s all.

"But he didn’t and right now we should worry about-."

"Yeah, I know." Scott looks over and the wolf in the back seat is silenced.

"Alright, can you keep walking now? Thanks." Styles jerks the jeep forward as the man finally gets out of the way.

"Styles."

"He's fine and we really have other things to focus on." Styles shakes his head with some annoyance.

"What if that guy was one of the Hunters in town coming after us?"

"We can't just assume everyone we see is a Hunter. That’s just crazy."

"Are we crazy for wanting to stay alive?" Malia thinks the answer should be clear but dealing with humans is confusing, everything was much simpler when she was just a coyote.

"Well you can't go around killing people either." Styles warns. The last thing any of them need, is innocent people being murdered in Beacon Hills.

"Lydia?" Scott has his worry frown in place.

"What?" Styles turns, trying to get a look at her and gets smacked.

"Watch the road!"

"Gah! Alright." He grumbles, though he sneaks a glance in his rearview mirror and sees the dreamy expression on Lydia's face. "Uh-oh."

“What?” Malia looks to Lydia and back at Scott. She can see the slight frown on his features, but not the reason for it.

“Hey, Lydia?” Scott reaches towards her and gently touches her hand. “Lydia.”

“Hmmm?” she looks at him, slowly focusing on Scott until she frowns at them all. “What?”

“You had that look.” Malia explains. “Again.”

 Lydia shakes her head at them. The last thing she wants is to have a bunch of questions thrown at her. “Right now, we need to figure out how to deal with the Benefactor and the list. The Alpha pack can wait until after.”

“They don’t seem the types to wait a turn.” Styles notes.

Lydia turns her eyes to the road. She’s barely listening to them, not sure what it is she’s feeling, only that’s its familiar and that make her anxious.  

**SPN**

He follows her down the street and waits when she turns right. He counts to twenty before moving forward and then peeks around the corner. He catches sight of her almost two blocks down and starts walking. She doesn’t turn again but he sees the man crossing the street towards her.

He’s tall, moves like a Hunter and carries a weapon just at his lower back.

Dean knows she can see the man too. She stops and waits, hands still in the pockets of her coat, which tells Dean, she doesn’t consider this stranger a threat to her.

Chris stops in front of her. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He studies the young woman; her dark hair and teal eyes, remind him of his Victoria.

“Pourquoi ệtes-vous ici?” she didn’t expect him to approach her in the street. So far, Montserrat has initiated all contact. After Allison…

“I… we should have a conversation.” Chris hesitates but slowly reaches his hand to touch her cheek.

Montserrat takes a step back. She tries to hide the hurt, but she knows he saw it and it makes her angry. “I'm not _her_.”

“I know… That’s not-.” He sighs and drops his head. He’s lost his little girl but still has a daughter. All he’s looking for is a chance to know her, a chance that she can be saved from Gerard’s lies. When he looks up, there’s a man approaching them. Chris turns to look at him and hears the frustrated sigh expelled by his daughter.

Dean can tell the man has noticed the scowl. There’s a thread of anger, the Mark is beginning to burn and all because he saw Montserrat avoid the man’s touch.

“Leave.” Montserrat says over her shoulder, hands coming out of her pockets. She doesn’t bother facing Dean, though she doubts he’s going to listen.

“Money-.”

“Now, Dean.” She repeats.

“You heard her.” Chris adds when Dean still doesn’t walk away. He steps forward, hand raised but Dean moves. He's faster than Chris expects, the grip on his wrist hurts…

“NO.” Montserrat steps between them, turns so she’s facing Dean and is surprised when he roughly pulls her partly out of his way and shoves Chris.

“Stop. Right now!” she grabs his jacket and shirt, yanking as hard as she can. “Leave us.” She orders over her shoulder and barely registers the surprised hurt on Chris’ face. “You, come with me.” She yanks on Dean’s jacket, pulling him with her down the street.

Away from Chris.

Dean walks, one foot in front of the other, but he doesn’t pay attention to where they’re going. He keeps her hand, firmly in his. He’s thinking of all the little things he noticed in that brief encounter; the flush of her skin, the expression on their faces, the stiff set of her shoulders, the almost defeated set of the man’s…

She takes the keys from the Hunter by the SUV. “Get in.”

Dean frowns, doesn’t like he completely zoned out, but goes to the passenger door. He gets a slight nod of hello from the Hunter, he barely remembers them meeting.

“Neanderthal.” Montserrat snaps when she drives into the street. “You-.” She grits her teeth and drives in silence.

Not a peep from Dean the entire drive. He's scowling out the windshield, thinking about his reaction and the dull throb from The Mark on his arm.

Once at her base, she parks and gets out, slamming the door behind her. She doesn’t bother looking to see if he’s following her because she can hear his boots echo on the pavement.

The ground floor is open, plastic sheets partitioning sections, metal lockers serving as dividers or lined up against the frames of walls.

“Remodeling-.”

“Qu’est-ce que c’était?” Montserrat demands turning on him. “Votre possessif-.”

“Money, I don’t know what the hell you’re saying.” Dean cuts in.

“What the hell, Dean? What is wrong with you? And don’t give me that ‘I don’t know’ look. Since when do you give a shit?” she crosses her arms because otherwise, she’ll smack him. “Silence, now? No smart ass remark? Why, Dean? Since when do you care? Because you haven’t cared before.”

“I never- I didn’t say that.”

“Not with words, no.” she agrees. “But leaving our bed when I feigned sleep certainly never gave me the impression you did care for me.”

Dean wont have _that_ conversation with her, there’s too much he can screw up and he's already pissed her off enough. “Who was he?” and that definitely makes him sound like a jealous boyfriend.

“What about those rumors, Dean? Heaven, Hell, angels and demons…?” she waits for him to answer but she can tell from the scowl on his face and pressed lips, he's not about to answer those questions either. He’s a damn frustrating man and she’s had enough of him too.

Enough of Chris defending Victoria, of Gerard telling her who she is and what she is supposed to do, of the lies and the doubts ...

Dean’s head jerks with the smack of her hand. He grabs the fist she makes and stops her from punching him.

Montserrat just glares back at him. She’s about to kick him when he pulls her into his chest and off her feet.

He cuts off the startled curse and gets bit. She doesn’t look the least bit sorry, but then… they tend to get rough in the beginning. And the smile that tugs on her full lips…

**TW**

 Sam’s waiting at the coffee shop.

He's tried calling Dean but there hasn’t been an answer and figures this is just like any other time before. The fact the town is full of monsters and there’s some unknown person paying for proof of death, worries Sam.

Its an hour since they were supposed to meet and Sam was almost run over by a bunch of teens in an old jeep, getting there.

He glances at his cell phone but there’s no reply to the text, no missed call and the clock keeps ticking…

**SPN**

She saw it… she didn’t let herself acknowledge the change, but she saw it all the same.

_'He's different.'_

There's something…wild, about Dean. Its not like before, that wildness was clean, like a man riding into the next adventure, arms open, ready for it. That’s what drew her to the Hunter in the first place… it's what she's loved about him.

But this… this wildness is dark and it scares her. There's a cold, withdrawn person in place of the man she'd thought to have known. This Hunter just wants to kill… and the Benefactor is paying him to do it.

Montserrat almost feels bad for the teen wolves in Beacon Hills. She's seen Dean Hunt; she's been at his side and helped him make those kills.

_'They won't know until its too late.'_

How many times did she get that same look on their faces as they lay dying? That glassy vacant expression frozen in confusion.

Because aren't _they_ the hunters and humans their prey?

It's not the wolves dying that bothers her. It's the Argent family motto, not the one her dead sister has convinced Chris to adopt. Killing those monsters is what they‘ve both been raised to do. But something about _this_ Dean worries her. And Dean isn't talking to her… not yet.

Montserrat lays quietly in the dark, her eyes on the sleeping Hunter at her side. She can tell he's not resting, whatever he's dreaming of… She remembers the other times, nights he held her in his arms and wouldn’t let go. The mornings she'd wake to find him still asleep and she'd watch a barely-there smile tug at his lips. She'd kiss him then, happily thinking it was because of her, that sleepy smile o f his…

Now she wonders if it _was_ about her…

She scoots closer, unrealistically hoping to regain that feeling, and finds herself being pinned by the suddenly wide awake Hunter.

Dean blinks, and the tight grip he's got on her loosens. He draws in a breath, a sliver of guilt hits him and to hide it from Montserrat, he kisses her. She doesn’t resist, whatever this change is, Montserrat still trusts that Dean wont hurt her. There’s a hunger that still gnaws at him, but the gentle touch of her hands gliding over his chest curbs that. He tries to relax, but once her hand glides over his arm and stops on the Mark, its over.

Montserrat looks up at Dean, the hard line of his clenched jaw and softly asks; “What’s this?” she traces her fingers over it. “I never thought you’d brand yourself, didn’t think you were the type for tattoo’s either… but here you are.” She looks at his arm when he pulls away and sits. “Branded.” She sits up and touches the black ink on his chest. “And marked.”

He’s told her things… about John and Sam … growing up Hunting monsters, living on the road, always moving, no roots, no home… It’s the dream, the fairytale ending… the apple-pie life…  

She knows.

Same as Dean knows her secrets… at least, he thought he knew them.

“Who’s the old guy?” this time, Dean’s going to wait her out. He wont let her avoid answering him anymore.

She sighs, partly annoyed, and looks away. “That was Chris Argent. He provided the other half of my genetic make-up.”

Dean is surprised. “That was…”

“Not my Father. He didn’t raise me.” Montserrat is quick to clarify. 

Dean nods, hand reaching for her face and Montserrat just leans into him. He likes that, holding her is so easy… “Where’s he been?”

“What’s with the brand, Dean?” she grips his forearm and pulls away just enough to look at him. “I know what the tattoo is, a DevilsTrap. I can guess why… so the demons…?”

She’s got the time to wait him out. She knows that’s all he needs, just a bit of time to tell her what’s going on…

When he does start talking, Dean begins  with the last time he saw her. She remembers the Hunt and the fight they had. Just a stupid argument… all because she didn’t want to admit he’d been right. She doesn’t tell him that now, not when he’s talking about trading his soul for Sam and going to Hell. He can barely admit to himself what he did there but he tells Montserrat he deserves it. He can feel her grip tighten on his arm but she doesn’t say anything, and all he can see on her face…

Dean looks away and says an angel pulled him out, and the rest of Heaven tried to use them to start the apocalypse.

She doesn’t interrupt him, even though he’s looking at her, but she just wants him to get it out. Say what he’s been holding in, what’s feeding the anger… the hurt…  She knows what those are.

“We’ve been fighting Hell and Heaven, Money.” Dean sighs and leans back into the pillows. “I even spent a year in Purgatory… waiting for Sam to come get me.” He laughs. How stupid had he been…? Montserrat leans towards him, linking their hands and listens to Dean tell her, how the angel he’d thought was his friend, had left him. And that’s _after_ the angel betrayed them by making a deal with the King of Hell to steal the souls from Purgatory.

“And Sam… he was shacked up with some chick… even had a dog.” He smiles but she can see the hurt behind it.

What she knows about him, this Hunter she’s been in love with… All he’s ever done is love his family. He’s given what he’s had of himself, to them, _for_ them…

“Cas was duped, Heaven’s locked and there’s angels walking around… We met Henry.” This time, the smile is sad.

“Who is he?”

“My grandfather.” He trails his fingers through her dark hair. “He time travelled here… followed by Abaddon. She killed him, Money.” His fist clenches. “This…” Dean lifts his arm, green eyes focused on the Mark. “I got it from Cain. The Knight of Hell… and when I get the First Blade back from Crowley… I’m going to kill Abaddon.”

Montserrat nods, she drops her head to hide her face but he can tell she’s thinking about something.

“What can I do?” she looks up at him. He can see she means it, the offer of help. He knows what that means, the Hunters she commands, the resources…

“You avoiding my question, Money?” Dean almost smiles, traces a finger over her shoulder and hooks a strand of her hair and tugs.

“Dean.” She’d hoped he wouldn’t bring it back to her but huffs an annoyed breath, shaking her head. “Don’t you have enough on your plate? Why even stay in _Beacon Hills_?”

“It’s a paying gig, sweet heart. And I don’t have any leads on Crowley or the First Blade.” He shrugs, glances over at the annoying buzz of his phone and grabs it. He scowls, types a quick ‘ **I'm fine. Now quit**.’ and tosses the cell back on the table serving as her nightstand.

Montserrat knows he's going to wait her out now. She sighs; “By comparison, I feel an idiot for this… but, since you're being so nosy, I’ll tell you.”

She likes that he laughs at her sort of insult.

She starts with Gerard calling her to _Beacon Hills_ , how she found her sister running around with a mongrel. Dropping in on Chris and introducing herself…  she lets him see it, her pain… the anger… but worse is the doubts, the not knowing.

“Grandfather is dead and I still have questions. And asking Chris just made it worse. I don’t know if I should believe him, that he didn’t know…”

“Money, you've always called my bull shit. Call ‘im on his.” Dean shrugs.

“I shouldn’t have to!” she scowls. “Gerard raised me. _He_ took care of me… and I’ve-. I’ve been feeling guilty for doubting everything he’s told me.”

“I never liked the old geezer-. Ow!” Dean pulls back from her second strike. “Hey! He was a shady old man. You shouldn’t be mad at me for saying so. I'm not biased, Mo.” When she doesn’t try to hit him again, Dean knows she's actually listening to him. "I've got an outside view, sweet heart. That's all, you decide what to do…"

Montserrat lets out a frustrated cry, while throwing herself beside him, her back hitting the headboard. Pointedly ignoring the funny smirk on Dean's face at her little fit.

He has a point, she knows that. But she's already spent too much time thinking and doubting and just… _feeling_.

"Let me help you." She turns to him, already shaking his head.

"You've got a town to clean up. It’s a paying Hunt, might as well get your share." He'd rather she stay as far away from his Hunt for Abbadon.  Hunting monsters is dangerous enough… but demons… angels… no, that's not a Hunt Dean wants her in.

"I should be used to this by now." Montserrat can't decide if she wants to be mad at him. Or if she's just going to be sad that he wont let her any closer than this.

"What?" Dean frowns.

"You," she sighs. "Pushing me away." She turns to face him, leaning into his shoulder.

Dean really doesn’t like where this is going. He's avoided relationships before, he's left this girl and come back to her more than once. He can't avoid thinking about his time as just a regular guy living in suburbia, pretending to be the Dad… For a year, Dean actually had the apple-pie life he'd been wanting. Only Sam was missing and Dean couldn’t just put aside those last moments… he can't tell Montserrat that he cares about her too much to bring her any closer.  Especially now that Dean has seen how far both Heaven and Hell will go to just to hurt him.

"I've never told you, didn’t let you see that it bothers me…." She cups her hand on his jaw and pulls his face towards her. "I can't do that anymore, not with everything you've told me, all that’s happened…I'm done pretending."

He'd been doing good, redirecting any questions, distracting her… but he should've known. Dean almost smiles, this strong willed, stubborn girl is always difficult to dissuade. Now he's thinking, maybe she just let him think it was his idea.

"This is why I shouldn’t ha-." He feels her hand slip behind his neck and then she tugs. Whatever he was trying to say… well. He pulls her onto his lap, hand slowly gliding down her back to her waist.

"Je te aime." Her soft words are followed by the press of her lips before she pulls back to look in his eyes. "And yes, I am still in love with you."

She's not expecting him to say it back. That's not what this is. Everything he's told her, what he's been through… he's died and she didn’t even know it. That alone hurts more than she wants to admit. If he should leave her again, like he's done before and she never told him…

Montserrat doesn’t want to live with that regret.  

**TW**


	9. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still out of sequence, and yup, this is another intro for the lost daughter. I have a few more outlined and some more TW chars to write in.

_She's there for answers. Too many questions about things and people that shouldn’t matter to her. And she's tried to put it aside…_

_Little things about his office grab her attention; the pictures of Chris with Allison. The picture of Victoria almost reverently set on the mantel._

_"You know what I want."_

_There's no greeting, no warmth. Chris struggles to hold her eyes- its almost as if Victoria is staring back at him. He knows exactly what she wants as soon as the paper in her hand is dropped on his desk. What gets him is the set of little feet, a perfect set of prints. He traces them lightly with his finger. He keeps his eyes down, to hide what he's feeling. This daughter is a stranger. She's following orders from a dead man. A devious man so focused on killing he contaminated Allison for a short time. Used her just like he's using Montserrat._

'Will I be too late to save her?'

_"I wasn’t there." He says. "I never knew… that you were…"_

_Stolen. She was taken from them. Hidden away and when he looks at her, the teal green shade of her eyes like her Mother's, is almost glacial. There's nothing in her expression, no emotion at all._

_"Victoria, before she died. She confessed… said you were dead and there hadn't been any reason to bring up the pain of losing you."_

_"She gave me away." Montserrat points out the correction. "There's nothing about loss when you hand over your child."_

_"Montserrat-."_

_"She was not my Mother." She cuts him off. "Whatever you have to say doesn’t change the fact she never wanted me."_

_"No. … Gerar-."_

_"Has loved and cared for me." Montserrat snaps. "What the hell did your Victoria do for me? She lied. To you. To Allison." She pauses, there's a mix of emotions all over his face. She barely knows what to believe, because he cannot be that good an actor. Would he fake innocence? He's got her doubting the word of her grandfather, the only Father she's ever known. But she still has questions, doubts… she doesn’t want it anymore. This anger that’s been eating at her… So she’s here. "Did you never know?"_

_Chris shakes his head No. "I wouldn’t have allowed it." He steps around the desk, closing the distance between them. "You're my daughter…"_

_She wants to believe him. She wants to stop feeling inadequate because of them. She’s always felt_ less _than, because Victoria didn’t want her. She sees the pictures of them, the three of them a happy family… He places a gentle hand on her cheek, the same as her grandfather and that adds to the anger churning her stomach. They’ve lied to her, abandoned her… She was discarded… Replaced?_

_"Daughter?" her voice is soft. Controlled. "Don’t fool yourself." She takes a step back, that distance feels like a chasm. This feels worse than she had expected. "If I'm asking about her, about you, its because I want answers." She grabs her birth certificate from his desk and rolls it up. "I want to lay to rest all the questions that have been going around and around in my head for as long as I can remember."  She jabs the rolled parchment at him. "I want to put anything to do with that woman and the reasons she may have had to toss me aside like I was worthless-."_

_"She wouldn’t, Montserrat." Chris denies it. The woman he knew, the Mother of his daughters, she wouldn’t have given any child away. "Victoria was not heartless-."_

_"Her actions say otherwise." She can see he's going to keep arguing Victoria's case and shakes her head. "Don’t bother."_

_Chris watches his daughter turn away from him, heading to the door, leaving… He doesn’t know how to reach her. But he can't just let her walk away believing Gerard's lies. "Why did you come?"_

_Montserrat stops. She looks at him over her shoulder and there's a flash of something, some emotion before she hides behind her mask of cold disinterest._

_"You're here." Chris takes a step towards her. "Is it only because of Gerard?"_

_She can see the answer he wants. She's tempted to lie and that bothers her. But that picture of Victoria just at the corner of her vision is enough to remind her these people never wanted her._

_"Why didn’t you look for us before? For me, at least…" Chris wonders if maybe she had looked for him._

_"And say what?" Montserrat frowns. "Hello, I'm the daughter your wife gave away." She scoffs. "It sounds ridiculous. And what would be the point? Victoria could have kept denying it. I could have proven her wrong. We could've fought over the truth and what would have been the point?"_

_"To know each other." Chris is quick to reply. "To be a family-."_

_"What kind of family is that?" she glares at him. "You've had a daughter, raised her, watched her grow and loved her…”she’s been witness to it the past few days, watching them. “What would I have been?" she demands. "Some stranger, like I am now, forced into trying to fit? Treated differently because of it? Ignored? … loved?" she scoffs._

_"Yes." Chris assures. No hesitation, no doubt. "We would have. Loved you because you're ours, Montserrat. You are our daughter."_

_"By blood." She corrects. "Not by choice. Victoria made it clear I was not wanted."_

_"If that were true… You wouldn’t be alive."_

_She looks at him. Harsh words he didn’t want to voice. She can tell the struggle it is to say these words._

_"You loved her."_

_Because he hasn’t stopped defending Victoria._

_"I'm sorry."_

_Chris looks at her, confusion on his face. "Why?"_

_"Because you can't see it wasn’t returned. Not in the same measure."_

_He's shocked and hurt. He can see she really believes it, the lies Gerard has spread. Chris is angry too, because Gerard has poisoned his daughter against Victoria._

_"I have a town to clean."_

_"Monse-."_

_"I came to offer you the chance to make up for the years we missed because of her." She opens the door.  "You can prove to me how much you love the daughter you never had the chance to raise. Hunt at my side, lets clean_ Beacon Hills _."_

_Still, Chris hesitates._

_"I'm not deviating from the plan. I don’t need you." She makes it clear her only purpose is ridding the town of werewolves. "I have Hunters. They’ll come when I call…"_

_She is the head of their family no matter how much that upsets Allison. Its been the two of them the past year, Chris and Allison… no Hunters… and now it turns out they're both replaceable to Montserrat Argent. 400 years of prestigious werewolf Hunters and his daughter is asking him to Hunt at her side._

**TW**


End file.
